


March Madness

by kinksquad



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Gunplay, Other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-01
Updated: 2018-03-01
Packaged: 2019-03-26 17:46:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,371
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13862748
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kinksquad/pseuds/kinksquad
Summary: 31 days of kinks featuring the Blackwatch Boys and others. Tags and character list will be updated as needed.





	March Madness

**Author's Note:**

> im a sinful sinny sinner and i love guns here u go

  
  


You can’t remember how you got into this situation, but  _ god _ if it isn’t the hottest fucking thing ever.

McCree has you settled in his lap, generously allowing you one thicc thigh to rut against. His large hands keep you steadied by your hips as his mouth trails down your neck, leaving bite marks and swollen bruises in its wake.

“J-Jesse,” you breathe, shuddering as your clit drags against the rough fabric of his jeans. “Jesse, I need…”

You feel him smile against your skin. “Love the way you say my name, darlin’,” he murmurs. “Sweetest sound in the whole world.”

“Not the time for that,” you mutter, rolling your hips harder down against him. You loved it when McCree could be sweet and lovey, but tonight was...not the night.

“Hm?”

“Fuck me, Jesse. I’ve had enough of….” You pull his hand toward your aching slit, raising your hips from his thigh. Frustratingly, he just pulls it back.

“Ah-ah, darlin’. That ain’t how we ask for things.”

You scowl down at him, hoping he can feel your frustration. “ _ Please _ fuck me, Jesse?” you spit out between clenched teeth.

Jesse withdraws his hands from you altogether. “Y’ever heard of askin’ nicely?”

Oh, he wanted you to beg. 

...Too bad you weren’t in a begging mood.

“I  _ am _ being nice.” Your hands move to his shoulders, grip the fabric of his shirt. “You’re hard, I’m needy. Fuck me, c’mon, Jess - “

You forget how quickly he could go from 0 to 100. In a second he has both your wrists in one of his large hands, pulled taut behind your back. You have to clench your thighs around his in order to stay seated on his lap. The danger of falling alone makes your heart quicken.

“Jesse -”

“Sounds like someone needs a lesson in mindin’ their manners,” he says, low and dark, and he clicks the safety of his gun.

Your heart  _ stops _ .

He...he wouldn’t….would he?

McCree drags the cool metal of his Peacekeeper along your bare thigh, all fingers wrapped around its handle. He taps it once, twice, against your hip. “Up, babygirl. On your knees.”

You’re shaking. It’s hard to raise yourself up, using McCree as leverage, but you manage ‘till you’re straddling his lap, a knee on either side of him. You can feel your heart pounding so quick and harsh in your chest, it’s a wonder that he can’t hear it.

Or maybe he can. 

You let out a low whimper, biting your lip. You stare fearfully at him, but he hasn’t eyes for you. He watches as he drags his gun along the slick of your inner thighs, pressing the muzzle to your clit. Anxiety bubbles in your chest, but at the same time you are so painfully turned on.

Who knew this was a kink of yours?

“Ride her.”

“W….what?”

The front sight of the gun drags along your clit, and you shudder, trying not to clench around it. “You heard me, darlin’. Pretend she’s my thigh.”

McCree looks at you, then, his pupils dark and blown wide. He releases his grip on your hands only to grasp at your hip instead. Guiding you. “‘S’okay, baby girl. C’mon.”

Your hands find purchase on his shoulders again as you balance yourself. He has to drag his gun slowly, back and forth along your cunt, before you get the idea. You rock your hips hesitantly against the bridge of his gun, breath catching in your throat. It felt  _ good _ , better than his thigh. You both watch as your folds slide along the barrel of his Peacekeeper, how the sight catches pleasurably against your clit.

...God, you should  _ not _ be doing this. It was dangerous, and naughty, and God knows where his gun has been - 

“You’re doin’ so good, baby girl,” McCree breathes, his thumb drawing circles against your hip. “Lookit you, tremblin’ like this. You’re such a brave girl.” You watch as his finger slides over the trigger, resting lightly, and your fear hitches up another notch even as Jesse murmurs soft, incohesive nothings to you.

He applies a little more pressure to his gun, presses it a little rougher against you and you moan, finally finding it in yourself to truly grind down against it. The rational, smart part of your brain is absolutely on  _ fire _ , screeching at you how stupid this was, how dangerous.

The primal monkey part of your brain is louder, however, and you close your thighs around his gun so you can rut hard and quick against it. Your head lays on his shoulder, back arching.

“Careful, darlin’,” McCree chuckles, voice laced with mirth. “Don’t wanna squirm so much that my finger slips.”

There’s a  _ threat _ contained in his words, surely, but you can’t register it. You whimper instead, too busy chasing your pleasure on his Peacekeeper. Each delicious roll of your hips brings you closer to the edge, and you’re panting like before. Your chest is in knots but the feeling is so good, so  _ good _ \- 

“Hold still,” McCree says, his grip tightening on your waist. You whine your refusal, gasping as his gun catches against your clit again. “Hold  _ still _ , sweetheart, or you ain’t gonna like what comes next.”

You still. He does have a gun in his hand, after all.

“‘Atta girl,” he says. He coaxes your thighs open again, nudging them with the barrel of his gun as he guides you to rise up. He runs the muzzle along your slit, admiring how easily it glides, before beginning to press just the tip of it inside you.

You gasp. “J-Jesse!”

“Hush, darlin’. Ain’t gonna hurt you none, promise.” You bite your lip as he presses the tip of his gun in and out of you, not even an inch, just  _ barely _ . 

Teasing, really.

For some reason, the fact that there’s a loaded gun  _ inside _ you is much worse than riding it, and yet the risk makes you wetter, makes you moan louder. McCree’s thumb finds your clit and he starts drawing circles around it. Pleasure shoots up your spin and curls low in your stomach as your voice pitches into a whine.

“Oh, Jesse, please. Jesse, Jesse, Jesse - “

“You gonna cum, babygirl?” His voice is low and scratchy. He’s watching you with lidded eyes. “Gonna cum all over my gun?”

God, when he says it like  _ that _ …

You feel so  _ dirty _ .

“Yes,” you pant. “Yes, Jesse, yes. Can I cum, please, Jesse?”

The gun pitches deeper into you.

“Go on, darlin’. Cum.”

All you needed was his permission. A strangled cry leaves you as you buck against his hand, thighs shaking with the effort of holding yourself up. McCree doesn’t stop until you fall forward, catching yourself against his shoulders. He pulls his gun from you as you relax, boneless, against him.

“Y’made a mess,” he observes. Indeed, your slick runs down the shiny metal of his gun. You feel your face heat up in embarrassment. “Gonna need to clean her now, hmm…” He looks down at you, contemplatively, before pressing the muzzle of the Peacekeeper to your lips. “Go on. Lick her clean.”

Your eyes widen, but you open your mouth tentatively. Your tongue slides around the tip of the gun, tasting yourself and the metal, and McCree hums appreciatively.

“Now ain’t that a sight. Never thought I’d see you like this.” He shoves the gun in deeper without warning, and you gag, feeling tears prick the corners of your eyes. “Lookin’ good, babygirl.”

You swallow around the barrel of the gun. You can see his finger hovering over the trigger (a warning, a tease?) and yet you can feel your arousal spiking again. McCree sets the pace, downright facefucking you with his gun as if it was his cock. You gag and sputter around it, and when he finally pulls it out you cough.

Your jaw aches, but the look that McCree gives you is payment enough. 

He’s still hard through his jeans, but he’s not doing anything, simply admiring you, idly twirling his gun in his hand.

“It...it’s not loaded, is it?” you finally chance to ask.

He smirks.

“Well now. That’s for me to know and you to find out, ain’t it?”


End file.
